Don't Slow Down
by tomhardysblackbry
Summary: In a classic game of cat and mouse, Arthur turns up at Eames' favourite local hang out. But what happens to Arthur when he realizes he's the one who's been caught? Language, adult situations, aggression, hair pulling, exhibitionism
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** Paragraph RP edited into a fic.

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><p>The bar tonight is packed, a little too full for Eames' liking. Granted, this is his usual hangout for a Friday night; the women are usually loose and easy, the barman is more generous with his alcohol. It's a good night to be at Rocco's… that is until the song changes.<p>

The slow tune rolls out of the speakers as Eames plucks the song from memory; some dreadful Spice Girls get up his hasn't heard in ages. He turns his eyes away from the slag he's been chatting up for the past hour to the stage, where none other than Arthur in his cool bravado palms the microphone and croons the words out by heart. Their gazes lock, causing Eames to squint in irritation and Arthur to smirk with his own humor.

They haven't seen each other in months, though Eames has done a hell of a job keeping tabs on Arthur without his knowledge. It seems that Arthur has fancied doing the same, as Rocco's was clearly not an establishment suited to Arthur's high class taste.

What part of no don't you understand? I want a man not a boy who thinks he can!

Arthur's voice hits a sultry pitch that gives Eames the need to shift in his seat uneasily, adjusting himself in the process. The blonde across from him tugs on his short sleeve before running her fingers along his bicep to attempt to regain his attention. Eames turns, putting on his sweetest smile with his steely blue gaze.

"Sod off now darling, the party's over." He turns from her immediately to return his glare to Arthur before he stands, righting himself and heads to the bar in the back.

Arthur finishes the last portion of the song, wrapping up the last note to a few applauses from the audience before stepping off the stage. His eyes locked on to the hideous paisley pattern, currently occupying one of the few stools at the bar. He makes his way through the crowd, pushing past the club goers that obviously needed a lesson in fashion sense. He manages to secure the stool right next to Eames, taking a seat without a word as Eames orders a drink from the bartender.

"I'll have a tequila sunrise Mac." He pushes some money across the countertop. Arthur chooses this moment to brush his knee against the Forger's thigh, stirring a sideways glance in his direction. More money gets tossed into the pile. "And make it strong," Eames adds with a nod.

The bartender, Mac, eyes Arthur as he gauges the exchange. "Anything for you?"

Arthur's face never leaves Eames' clenched jaw line. "I'll have what he's having."

Eames finally turns to face Arthur as the barman walks off to prepare their drinks. The look on his face is smug, the cheeky little fuck is finding sport in all of this sexual frustration he's causing. His jaw clenches tightly, grinding his molars together as he grits out the Point Man's name in acknowledgement. "Arthur."

"Eames." Arthur's smile appears fully as his presence is finally acknowledged. The bartender returns, colorful drinks in hand which prompts an eyebrow quirk in Eames' general direction. He knew that the Forger liked to drink, but he never expected something so fruity for someone so overtly masculine. He palms the cold glass, raising it to his lips to take a long swig.

"What brings you here?" he asks ever so innocently. He knows exactly why Eames is here because he's here every Friday through Sunday, picking up women with less than desirable faces and even less desirable morals.

Eames finds his glass, his eyes never leaving Arthur's face. He takes in the curve of his lips and that mischievous glint in his eye while he sips down his drink. "Well this is my usual spot Arthur," Eames smirks before taking a gulp of his own beverage. "The better question to ask is exactly what are you doing here?" The Forger arches his eyebrow with inquiry.

Arthur's calm doesn't waver as he meets Eames' challenge fully, taking another sip of his drink. "I heard it was karaoke night; I happen to like karaoke."

"But there's karaoke at The Ginger, which if I recall is approximately two blocks from your apartment. This one is at least a mile or further, which is unlike you as someone that prefers convenience outside of the workplace. Why so out of the way darling? Don't tell me you've missed me."

The smile that lifts across Eames' features is one of confidence and arrogance, but Arthur gives as good as he gets. "Don't be so full of yourself Eames, which I'm aware is a challenge for you. Not that I need to explain myself, but for your benefit in this instance I can oblige. I was visiting a friend and this place was nearby." The lie rolls from his mouth smoothly, stirring a huff of aggravation from his bar mate before he throws back the remainder of his drink like a shot.

"I'm going to the pisser." Eames grits out and stalks off to the restrooms. Arthur finishes his drink quickly, tossing some cash on the bar plus a generous tip for the bartender and heads for the bathroom door.

The smells of urine and bleach assault Arthur's sense of smell as he pushes the door open to reveal the dark club bathroom. His eyes glance over to the urinals that line the wall, expecting to find Eames there but the space is vacant. "Eames?" he questions, his voice carrying the most nervousness he's shown all night.

Eames steps out from behind a stall door and approaches Arthur with an aura of brashness. He moves to block Arthur's exit from the room as he leans his shoulder on the door, essentially trapping the two of them in alone.

"I know you've been following me Arthur." Eames eyes squint and his lips smirk as he watches the emotions play across Arthur's face. There's a bit of fear mixed in with a touch of anger, just the way he likes it.

"I don't know what you're talking about Eames." Arthur's hand reaches for the handle and gives it a good tug but it won't budge under the Forger's weight.

A sneer of victory crosses Eames' features as he watches Arthur try to weasel his way out of the situation. "You're not as slick as you'd like to think love." He reaches a thick arm over Arthur's head to hold the door with his hand instead of his body. Leaning in close, he stares into his brown eyes, challenging him as his alcohol scented breath washes over the Point Man's face. "My question isn't if Arthur, it's why."

Arthur's eyes follow the musculature of Eames' arm, from his hand pressing against the door to the bicep as it disappears under the clinging fabric of his shirt. Attempting to move the lump in his throat, he swallows hard, wondering exactly what in the hell he's gotten himself into. His lips move to speak but the words fail to come. His instincts tell him to fight as fleeing is not in his nature. He leans in, his nose just inches from the Forger's face. "I think you know why Eames."

Eames' eyes light up with a mixture of lust and rage. He should be furious that Arthur has been tailing him, but in fairness he'd been playing the same cat and mouse charade. The urge to punch him in the face starts in his mind, but the feeling detours, licking down his spine and dropping straight to the back of his balls. The fabric of his trousers stretches as the idea formulates into various scenarios. It's not too terribly difficult to imagine Arthur anywhere, doing anything; it certainly had become a nightly ritual as of late.

Arthur watches the mix of emotions play across the Forger's face. While he might be the best at his craft, it's plainly obvious that Arthur has an effect on him. His brow is knit together in frustration, sweat beading on the surface. It's not hard to picture whats running through his mind, the idea making him hard as he's been imaging the same thing for months now. His eyelids lower slightly at the thoughts assaulting him, leveling his stare at the luscious lips just a breath away from his own., wondering briefly if Eames will meet him in the middle or make him beg for it.

Grinding his teeth together, Eames can smell the cologne lingering on Arthur's perfectly smooth shirt collar mixed with the stench of the bathroom all around them. He could care less about the setting at this point as Arthur's face inches closer to his own. He never imagined in a million years he would get to live out his fantasy; not tonight, not ever. Arthur was the unattainable, forbidden fruit. Always tempting and mouthwatering to gaze at, but not worth the consequences of taking a bite. But now with the scent luring him ever closer, the temptation is far too great to ignore any longer. He pushes his frame into Arthur's, positioning the bulge in his pants in such a way that there would be no mistaking his intentions for the evening.

The pressure of the Forger's body throws any last shreds of Arthur's steeled resolve out of the figurative window. His lips cover Eames', pressing with an urgency and hunger he has only known in midnight dreams alone in his apartment. In desperation, he laces his hands through the man's hair, grabbing up handfuls before pulling his face closer. He needs this connection now more than ever, and he's more than willing to push back on Eames' aggressive nature to get it.

The contact of Arthur's lips on his own is unimaginable. Eames thought he would know how soft they would be, how plump and moist they would feel as they enveloped his cock like they did in his fantasies. But no, they were nothing like the picture his mind had painted. He holds the door firmly with his palm, leaning into the kiss that Arthur is offering up. Slipping his tongue deep into the Point Man's mouth, he can taste the drink he swallowed only moments before. The thoughts of Arthur drinking his signature drink snakes down the pathways to his brain, turning him on even further. He slams Arthur's slender frame into the metal door, sounding out a thud as he traps his soon to be lover.

Arthur lets out a moan that disappears into Eames' mouth before he gasps in surprise at the use of force. His heart is beating wildly, as if it could fly from his chest at any moment from the exhilaration. He knew of Eames' temper when he was provoked but he never expected to find it so damn attractive. Arthur wraps his arms around Eames' neck, lifting his legs up to wrap around the Forger's waist to press his groin into the erection that is assaulting him through the layers of fabric. Eames grunts with the added weight, but wraps a thick arm around Arthur's body to support him and push him closer.

"You want this cock don't you?" The words sliding through his crooked teeth like venom. "You've wanted me inside of you for awhile now, I can tell you little slag."

Eames can feel the answer before he hears it, looking down between the two of them as Arthur grinds the fabrics between them desperately together. He quickly resolves that there are far too many clothes in this situation for his liking before dropping his hold on Arthur and prying him from his body.

"Take your fucking pants off," he huffs, his steely blue gaze boring into Arthur's.

Arthur can't help but moan a little in response to the command. Eames knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to speak plainly about it. Arthur on the other hand could barely form the words to say how badly he wanted the other man inside of him. As his feet meet the floor once more, his fingers trembling in anticipation as he quickly unclasps his belt as well as the fly of his pants and pulling them from his legs. Were this a normal situation, he would insist there be time to fold them neatly and place them somewhere sanitary. This is anything but normal, and for once he can't seem to care about the amount of wrinkles there would be once the two of them are done.

"Fuck me Eames," he begs, wondering where the desperation in his voice is coming from. Oh the things this Forger does to him.

"I need you to pull me out."

Eames' arms are still pressed firmly against the door to hold it in place, not giving two shits if someone needs to get in to take a piss. He's still in a bit of shock that he's here in this filthy bathroom, about to fuck the daylights out of Arthur, the one person he thought to be forever unattainable. The shock quickly fades as his eyelids fall low; a response to the swift tugging at his belt and trousers to expose him to the damp room. Grunting out commands like a neanderthal, Eames manages to get Arthur turned around, palms against the door and his arse stuck out in the air like a prized ham on Christmas morning. His tongue juts out to lick his lips involuntarily, moistening the pink stretches of flesh that have gone dry in anticipation. A few fingers to the mouth and he's dampening up the digits to prep for entry. He can hear the Point Man moaning like a common whore as he slips in one finger, followed swiftly by another.

Arthur presses himself against the pressure of Eames' hand, wanting him deeper inside of him, needing him to fill him. He moans and sucks in a gasp of the wretched air as he adds another finger before whimpering for more.

"Eames..." he trails off as the fingers open him up further, "Please...Eames..." He's reduced himself to begging at this point, completely removed from the normally rigid exterior he dons.

The Forger withdraws his hand, placing it at the base of his cock to position himself between the fleshy cheeks of Arthur's arse, straight to the sweet spot. He wastes no time with the pleasantries of going slow, as he knows that his handy work has stretched him enough that filling him is more pleasurable than painful. Once he's in, the freed hand goes to Arthur's hip, pulling him backwards as he thrusts with his hips. A banging sensation ripples through the arm pressing on the door, shooting adrenaline straight to his brain as he quickly realizes they could be caught fucking like wantons in the dingy bathroom. He doesn't care if he's really being honest with himself: the only thing that matters is getting to the point where he's exploding and Arthur is screaming his name in the tiny space.

He releases Arthur's hip, threading his finger's through that slicked back mop that the Point Man calls hair, griping onto the follicles at the root as Arthur slams backwards into him. His name falls from Arthur's lips with a moan, bouncing all around the confined space as the thumping gets harder on the door. A sudden shove of the metal under his palm throws Arthur back unexpectedly, causing Eames to cry out in pleasure. He bites the sound back, sucking his lip into his mouth as the two of them shove the door back into place.

Arthur is completely turned on by the scenario at hand: the aggression, the thrill of getting caught. Hearing his name on Eames' tongue only makes it that much hotter. He pushes against Eames on every thrust, calling out his name as he hits that spot and he's momentarily blinded. And god, was he going to cum now if Eames didn't stop moaning and grunting like that.

"Fuck... I'm close," he hisses.

Eames quickens the pace, slamming into Arthur like a punch every time, arching his hips as he his the spot with every stroke. The sex is mindblowing, in a ridiculous way he wishes it could never end. One solid push and he hits even deeper than before, exhaling a massive breath as he explodes, roaring into the tiny room with release. He can hear Arthur gasping beneath him as he hovers over his frame. Eames palms Arthur in his hand, stroking him fiercely as he twitches inside of the man's ass, coaxing him to completion. He laughs dryly as he feels Arthur release, coating the back of the bathroom door with his sticky cum.

Arthur feels Eames release inside him, the man's muscles tense for a moment before he relaxes around him. And when Eames' hand finds it's way around his aching cock, he lets himself spill over the edge, calling out the name that's been on his mind these last months, loving the feel of it on his tongue, the way it sounds in his voice, hoarse and broken and wanted.

"Eames..." He stays bent over for a moment, not quite able to recover.

Feeling Arthur fall into completion, he releases his grip on his cock, quickly bending over to yank up his boxers and trousers from the floor. This memory will burn in his mind forever. The sound of skin hitting on skin, the cries of passion, but it can never happen again. Eames resolves to disappear as the buckle is fastened and he clears his throat to wake Arthur from his sex haze stupor.

"Gain some control of yourself Arthur, we need to move."

Arthur stands up, his muscles aching, but in a good way, a way that will make him smile tomorrow. He looks around the bathroom, his cum on the door in front of him. Another stain in a stain filled room. He pulls on his pants and pulls himself together. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in place. He glances back at Eames, noticing a dark look on the man's face.

He tries not to lock gazes with Arthur, tries to show him that this was nothing more than a quick and easy lay. Something he'll probably regret in the morning, but quick and easy none the less.

"You need to move Arthur." He ducks into the stall to piss as the bar's bodyguard pushes roughly through the door, almost slamming it into Arthur's face. The thought of someone rough handling Arthur ignites a burning in Eames' chest, which he dampers down for later.

Arthur watches Eames turn away, knowing that there's something he's not saying, seeing it show only briefly in his features before they're hidden from him.

"I'll see you around then," he says, suddenly unsure. What had happened? What he felt...what Eames felt... What will happen now? If it was anything like the way he knows the Forger, he'll disappear, waiting to be found again.

Arthur pushes past the bouncer, nearly falling on his face when the door pushed in. The sound of out of tune karaoke fills the bar, a song about pain and heartache and it hits him in the gut. He glances back at the bathroom door, hoping to see Eames come out behind him, calling to him. He's disappointed, though. He only sees his own heartache.


	2. Chapter 2

Eames is perched on his usual bar stool, sipping on the tequila sunrise that's not quite strong enough for his liking. He would think that after years of telling the same sad fucking excuse for a bartender that he needs more alcohol in his drinks that the guy would get the hint. The Forger grumbles aloud about how he could make a better drink at home, glaring holes into the mirror behind the bar as he pulls down another giant swig. He's morose on this evening, deciding that sitting at home in his flat alone is just too unbearable after the last job. Suddenly and without warning, he feels that familiar tingle rise up his spine. That tiny signal that the only person that could coax a reaction out of him has returned, to the same bar they'd last seen each other in only weeks ago.

Arthur steps up to the bar, around the corner from Eames. He watches him order his drink and glare at the bartender when he receives it. When the bartender comes over to him, he orders a whiskey, not really caring about the content as much as something to keep him occupied. He didn't come to the bar tonight to drink as he has other plans, the whiskey just helps him follow through. Once he gets his drink, he glances over to Eames again and realizes the other man was looking right at him. The courage he had summoned up has suddenly disappeared._ Fuck._

Arthur's suit is more than Eames can handle, even just sitting on the stool staring at him like a rabid dog about to strike. Black on black is his favourite of Arthur's choices, as it makes him look dangerous and deadly. He shifts on the stool, slightly adjusting his coat to cover his waist as he wonders if Arthur is carrying a weapon tucked in the small of his back. He hopes like hell he is; hopes to whatever god is out there listening that there is a Glock 17 tucked somewhere in that tight package Arthur is putting on. Eames slams back the rest of his drink and taps the glass back to the bar before licking his lips, never breaking focus on Arthur's brown gaze. He removes himself from the stool, adjusting his now hard cock in his pants before walking to the empty stool next to the Point Man.

Arthur watches Eames move like a predator across the bar, knowing full well he's the prey. The very thought both frightens and thrills him; he knows he wouldn't have shown up if it didn't. He wants Eames' any way he can have him, not caring about the consequences and emptiness that he knows will follow. He's like a drug he can't quit only more dangerous. Arthur throws back his whiskey quickly before Eames takes the stool beside him, reveling in the way it burns going down his throat. It brings him back to himself.

"Eames." He speaks matter-of-factly, his voice as steady and sure as it was on any job.

"Arthur." The greeting is more of a sneer than a polite gesture. Eames admires the other man's attire now that he's only a foot or so from him. The suit is cut perfectly and tailored as always, with the black silky material of his shirt and tie underneath akin to the darkest of midnights. In comparison to Eames' own attire, he looked like he fell out of the pages of GQ. He leans over, close to Arthur's ear where only he can hear the next few words that come out of his mouth.

"My car is out back in the lot. Be there in 5 minutes or your fucked."

Eames throws a few twenties on the bar, subsequently paying for his own tab and leaving a generous tip as he's not in the mood to bother with change. He rises coolly, making his way to the exit, hoping like hell Arthur will have the balls to follow him yet again. The Forger thinks back to the last time they were at this same bar, pinned against the filthy door of the bathroom, fucking like two madmen. The thought hits him like a sucker punch in the groin just as he reaches the black Aston Martin V12 Vantage and slips inside. He struggles as he adjusts himself, wanting nothing more than to grab up his cock and handle it himself before Arthur can arrive. Instead, Eames adjusts himself once more and waits in the darkness.

Hearing Eames say his name in that voice sent arousal through Arthur's body, settling in his groin. He swallows, reveling in the feeling of Eames' breath over his ear, his voice, low, threatening. If he isn't careful, he won't need to follow Eames out to his car. He watched the Forger walk off after throwing some money on the bar and slides off his own stool to follow. He knows he is going to get what he came for, if he only knew exactly what that is.

Arthur steps out of the bar, the cool air hitting his skin sending a chill down his spine. He runs his hands over his clothes, smoothing his jacket, touching the gun he keeps concealed at the small of his back. Once he has a moment to gather himself, he scans the parking lot before spotting Eames' car and walking toward it. It's black, dark, and dangerous; if any car fit it's owner, this one does. Arthur opens the passenger door and slides into the seat, closing the door behind him. The car smells new like it hasn't yet been broken in. Arthur wonders internally if tonight he may play a part in that process. He doesn't say anything, just watches Eames closely, wanting to know what plans the man has in store for him.

Eames hears Arthur slide into the tanned leather of the seat beside him, his intoxicating aroma filling up the cabin of the car as he sits in silence. No words are spoken as he fires up the car, revving up the engine before slamming it into first gear and squealing out of the parking lot. He shifts gears like its second nature, listening to the engine purr as he hits the highway at a blazing speed. Once he hits the empty HOV lane, he chances a glance at Arthur, who is staring at the vice like grip Eames has on the shifter.

"Imagining it's you darling?" Eames laughs darkly, stroking the knob just like he handled Arthur's cock a few weeks prior.

Arthur feels himself growing hard as he watches the way Eames handles the shifter. When Eames speaks the words that had been running through his mind, he tries to suppress a low moan. There's something about Eames tonight that's different; he can sense it and it excites him. He reaches down and runs his hand over the bulge in his pants, the light sensation of his own fingers through the fabric sending his breath out in a shaky gasp. He watches Eames' face closely, finding his voice.

"Where are we going?" He wants to sound skeptical, suspicious of Eames' intentions but fails miserably. He can hear the anticipation in his voice and it makes his stomach twist.

Eames tries to watch the road as Arthur licks his lips nervously and touches his hand to his leg before muttering out a question. The lust rages through his brain like a wildfire that he can't even compute what it was that his passenger has said. The only thing on his mind is blinding, all consuming need. Eames glances at the cluster of gauges in the dashboard quickly and scans ahead, seeing that they are still alone on this stretch of road. He spares Arthur a quick glance, smirking in mirth before he reaches for the fly of his pants to undo himself, freeing his hardness from the restraints of material.

"Arthur..." he all but hisses as he palms himself as he handled the shift knob only moments before.

Arthur's eyes widen as he watches Eames hand wrap around his cock. He can feel his own respond, aching to be touched but ignores his own in favor of Eames'. He reaches across the car, his fingers finding their way around Eames' erection, and he begins to move them along it roughly, listening for the other man's voice and being rewarded with a small gasp that the Forger couldn't subdue. He could feel the car gaining speed as Eames' body responds to his hands, but he can't seem to care. If anything, the speed heightens his senses, making the situation more thrilling. He trains his eyes on Eames' face, waiting for the reaction that he wants desperately to see.

"What do you want?" He asks, feeling brazen in his control over the other man's body.

Eames can't form the words needed to tell Arthur exactly what he's looking for as he grinds his teeth together and groans while the Point Man's hand works his lap. His knuckles start to turn white against the black steering wheel and his foot presses harder onto the gas peddle, torpedoing them through the night towards an unknown destination. He lifts his free hand to palm the back of Arthur's head to push him towards his cock. It will be luck if they can pull this off properly in the small cabin of the car without hitting the gear shifter. Arthur's head stops, his mouth breathing quick breaths on the head of his dick as he hesitates.

Arthur's heart is racing as he hadn't anticipated exactly where tonight was going. He had been hoping for another quick go in the bathroom at best. This...this isn't anything like he had imagined; this was much more. Eames had shoved his head down, his chest hitting the shifter hard, he can already feel a bruise forming on his ribs where it had hit. The pain sends another shiver through his body, making his breath come short and quick. His lips hover over Eames' cock, waiting for the man to make him touch him. Arthur feels Eames' hand again on the back of his head, pushing him down, forcing him to take the length of his dick in his mouth, sucking and licking the whole way down, until he can feel it pressing against the back of his throat. He moans as his head bobs up and down, feeling his throat vibrate against Eames' cock. He feels Eames tense under him and knows he has the other man close.

He moves his mouth off Eames' cock, paying attention to the head as he comes off, his tongue flicking over the tip. He stares up into Eames' face, watching him bite his lip. "Do you want me to make you cum?" Arthur asks, a devilish grin forming on his lips.

The words come out of Arthur's lips in the cockiest tone he's heard from the Point Man all night, and the urge rips through him to shove his head down to choke him on his dick, but he resists. He arches his hips up in a begging motion, watching as the speedometer climbs up over 110 miles per hour before he starts backing off on the speed. The last thing he needs is to slam his eyes shut as he cums and kill them both, though dying in the middle of an orgasm isn't a bad way to go. After readjusting the speed to a conservative 70, he looks down into Arthur's face for a moment, expressing his need with a fierce look and a stern grunt before looking up to the road ahead.

Arthur grins back at Eames before leaning over and taking his cock into his mouth again, making quick work of the other man. While one hand cradles Eames' balls, he moves his mouth along the shaft, drawing him over the edge. He hears Eames' breath coming in quick gasps as he finishes, Arthur swallowing down the cum, reveling in the taste of it on his tongue. After several moments, he feels the other man relax and he pulls off, leaning up to plant a lingering kiss on the Forger's mouth, before falling back into his seat, his focus now on his own aching erection.

Eames resists the urge to slam his eyes shut as he feels the Point Man's mouth pop off his cock, but refrains as it surely will led to disaster. He hears more than watches him fall back into his seat, rubbing the fabric against his leg. In the time they have been driving, they managed to make it far out of town where the highway is virtually dead at this hour. Eames tucks himself back into his pants, palms the shifter and moves towards the nearest exit to get off of the highway. He can see Arthur's eyebrow quirk in confusion in his peripheral vision, but chooses not to comment as he exits off onto what can only be known as the most miserable stretch of land outside of the city.

The road is dark and desolate, flat lands stretching out on either side of the pavement for miles. There's no one here at this time of night, and not even the street lamps dare to work in this part of town. The tires eat up the pavement as Eames shifts to gain speed towards the destination he has in mind. It feels like an eternity before Arthur decides to break the silence in the car.

Arthur waits for Eames to say something, anything. Instead he's met with a quick glance and silence. He can't help himself and starts running his hand over his pants, rubbing along his cock, wanting desperately for it to be Eames. He let's out a low moan, watching the way Eames is concentrating on the road, focusing on anything but him at the moment; he wants him to pay attention to him.

"If you don't hurry up, you're going to miss your opportunity." Arthur unbuttons his pants, and slides his hand inside, gasping at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around his cock.

The sound of a zipper grabs Eames' attention from the road as he watches Arthur shove a needy hand into his pants, grabbing at himself. A wave of heat washes over the car's interior as Arthur's gasp of longing escapes his lips. With a quick jerk of the wheel, Eames pulls the car off on to the shoulder, slamming on the brakes to stop the car. He tucks himself into his pants once more, killing the headlights before throwing open the driver's side door and getting out in a rush.

"Get the fuck out of my car," he growls menacingly to Arthur just before slamming the door, rocking the entire car with the force. He storms to stand in front of the car's nose, moonlight the only light illuminating his body in the inky blackness of the night.

Arthur groans when Eames stops the car, knowing that finally Eames got the urgency. He watches him storm out of the car, slamming the car door so hard the noise momentarily shocks him, his voice a growl that hits him in the pit of his stomach, making his cock ache even more. He slides his pants over his erection just enough to keep it covered as he stands out of the car, slamming his own door behind him. He meets Eames at the front of the car, staring at the hood, imagining Eames throwing him down and fucking him hard against it. He lets out a ragged huff of air before looking into Eames' face, his own features set hard, a challenge. _Go on, fuck me_, they said.

The crunch of the gravel as Arthur gets out the car followed by the door slam sends a shiver up Eames' spine. He's still amped on the amount of adrenaline running through his system, despite the orgasm he just had moments before. The release hadn't even phased the high he was riding, just as it hadn't that faithful night in the club's bathroom. Something about Arthur intoxicated the Forger like a strong hit of heroine, something he couldn't come down from until the drug left his body.

Arthur stood in the darkness, his shirt untucked from where his pants were still undone from his personal rousing in the car. His eyes look black and hungry, a glint of moonlight reflecting off of the surface as they stare each other down across the short distance between them. The moan bubbles up from Arthur's chest before Eames lunges at him, almost attacking the man's clothing as he grips him tightly, pulling him into his chest before smashing his lips to Arthur's. Eames is not gentle as he presses his mouth against his lover's own; he roughly scrapes his teeth across the bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth to suckle as he shoves a rough palm into Arthur's pants to hold him. The kiss is greedy and urgent, hungry and desperate as force the Forger uses is inching Arthur back towards the car.

After a long moment of groping Arthur, completely disheveling his clothing, Eames picks him up, virtually slamming him into the hood of his favorite car. The engine underneath is still running, making the metal hot under Arthur's back. Eames is sure that he's concaved the metal, but at this point is too determined an insatiable to give a fuck. He looks down at Arthur, who's clearly still recovering from the none to gentle landing, completely ready to devour him right here in the open.

Arthur gasps when Eames slams him onto the hood of the car, the force knocking the air from his lungs. He coughs, trying to catch his breath. He reaches a hand under his back, where the gun he had earlier is lodged painfully between his back and the hood of the car. He pulls out the gun, feeling it scratch the already dented hood, and aims it at Eames. He presses the end of the barrel against the center of Eames' chest, hard enough that he knows it must hurt. His cock is out, and needing to be touched, but he wants something more.

"Fuck me Eames," he says, his words laced with venom, surprising him by the intensity of his own voice. With his free hand, he pulls Eames to him by the fabric of his shirt, his lips pressing to the Forger's ear. "I want you to make me scream." He pushes the man's face away, disgust on his face masking his true feelings.

Eames stares into Arthur's wild eyes and then looks to the gun pushed into his sternum, making his cock jump in his pants. Any other person would back away, any other person would run screaming like a little bitch off into the night. Oh no... not Eames. He pushes the barrel further into the fabric separating his skin from the metal, challenging Arthur to pull the trigger. The thrill of possible death pushed his head rush even further as he gripped the fabric of Arthur's pants, nearly ripping them down his legs. Arthur's gun never moved and his grimace never faltered.

He tore his fly open once more, shoving the pants and undergarments to the ground before spitting in his hand to rub the saliva across his already hard dick. He slicked the muscle quickly, giving it a few tugs before spreading Arthur's arse cheeks wide and lining up with his entrance.

"You want me to make you scream?" he taunted with a smirk, pushing the head of his dick in quickly. He repeated the line again, shoving more of himself inside of the other man's body, listening as his suspenders scraped against the paint of his car.

Arthur hisses through his teeth, holding in the moan when Eames presses inside him. He won't let Eames win that easily. He pushes against Eames in response, urging him to go deeper, harder. His body trembles with the pain and arousal as he can barely hold the gun in his hand any longer. He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath before pressing the gun harder into Eames' chest, wanting to cause him more pain. As Eames presses in him again, Arthur gasps out, narrowing his eyes, "I'm still waiting."

The jab comes out of Arthur's mouth like a sword, but Eames pushes on, grabbing onto Arthur's hips for balance and to shove the last of him inside of Arthur's arse. He looks down at the Point Man spread across the vibrating hood with a gun pointed straight at his heart. He can only imagine the power trip for him is similar to the one Eames experienced when overtaking Arthur before. The hum of domination burning through your veins while your partner breaks and submits.

Eames won't let him win, because submission is not in the Forger's nature. He withdraws his cock almost to the tip and slams back into the cavity with little to no warning other than the tightening pull on the skin and fabric at the other man's hips. Arthur's back arcs up off of the metal as Eames continues to pound into him ruthlessly, giving him every inch of pressure and then some as he leans into the barrel of the gun. He can't help but stare down into Arthur's face, daring him to try and stay silent.

Arthur suppresses another gasp when Eames drives hard into him again, pressing his own body against the barrel of the gun and his cock deep into Arthur's ass. But when he does it again, Arthur is finding it harder to remain silent. He's pressing back, his free hand finding his erection and beginning to pump furiously at it while Eames is driving into him. He knows he's close, and his jaw is hurting from clenching. He wants nothing more than to finish.

The look in Eames' face is finally what does him in, the challenging glare. He cries out as Eames pushes into him one last time.

"FUCK... Eames!" The name spills from his lips out into the darkness and he knows that Eames has won the game.

Pulling Arthur's ass to meet his thighs, Eames hears his name fall out of the Point Man's mouth in a cry of ecstasy just before he lets go, toppling over the edge of his orgasm. As the muscles of his lover's arsehole clench around Eames' cock, Eames himself explodes, shattering into a million fragments in his mind as he cries out into the night.

The gun is still pressing into his chest as Eames nearly collapses in exhaustion on top of Arthur. He reaches for the barrel, removing the metal from between them as he withdraws from the warm body and pulls his pants back up to cover himself. He offers a hand to assist Arthur off of the completely marred hood of his Aston Martin. He can't be bothered to give a shit as he assesses the damage done, the scrapes and the massive indention in the center.

Arthur dresses quickly but slightly wobbling from a mixture of the drink at the bar and the exhaustion that plagues the both of them. He coolly tucks his shirt in before shoving the gun back into it's hidden place and smoothing out his hair and clothes. The look that he gives Eames is an expectant one, as he's sure that Eames will no doubt leave him out here to find a way home, much like he did at the club so many weeks ago; it was in the Forger's nature.

Eames walks to the driver's door of the car, opening it and staring down the Point Man.

"Are you coming, darling?" Arthur is sure that the look that crosses his face before getting back into the vehicle is akin to a deer in the headlights.

The pair drive off, heading back in the direction of the highway, though nearly not as fast as the speed in which they took to get here. Eames shifts silently as Arthur watches his hand movements and smiles inwardly. Once they hit the highway back to the city, the car's engine protests at the speed, more than likely due to damage. Arthur quirks his eyebrow as something begins to rattle under the hood. Eames is the first to break the silence.

"While I thoroughly enjoyed the night, love, I have to inform you that you do owe me a new car now," he smirks involuntarily, hoping the seriousness sticks through.

Arthur does nothing but smile in his seat. After a few brief moments he finally speaks, laughing in jest as he does so. "You do realize I'm the one with the gun, right? And last I checked, this was your idea."

Eames could only laugh as he recalled his original plans for the evening.

The Point Man actually had a point.

-the end-


End file.
